


Elysium

by Aloysia_Virgata



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Gen, Post-Existence, Season/Series 10
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-28
Updated: 2016-01-28
Packaged: 2018-05-16 19:09:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5837536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aloysia_Virgata/pseuds/Aloysia_Virgata
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five things Scully didn’t get to do with William and one thing she did.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Elysium

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to my squad for being a sounding board, and to the Tumblrinos who helped me remember what happened to their car in One Son.

_***_

**I.**

Scully and William sit on the rug in the playroom, the green plastic Ikea table between them. Maggie is on the couch, her elbows on her knees, her chin in her hands.

“You ready?” Scully asks. She unbraids her hair, shaking it loose with her fingers.

William nods, surveying the model planes before him with a connoisseur’s gaze. “I know all these guys, Nana,” he informs his grandmother.

Maggie smiles, her eyes bright. “You know your Grandpa Bill really loved these planes, William.”

“I know and I sawed his pictures of his boat.” He points at one of the models with a small finger. “That’s a Vought 4FU Corsair.”

Scully flashes her mother a proud smile. “Great job, Will! How about, uh, that guy over there?”

“B-17G Flying Fortress. Easy!” He rolls his eyes with kindergarten disgust. Then he points to another. “F6F-5 _Hell_ cat,” he giggles, covering his mouth.

Maggie smoothes his chestnut hair, her engagement ring making rainbows on the far wall. “I’m so impressed! We’ll have to make a video to show your uncle.”

“That’s a good idea, mom.” Matthew prefers the stage to his father’s military interests and Bill considered the models useless for his girls. Scully had been delighted to receive the parcel of bubble-wrapped planes, and a video would be both an appropriate thank you and an enjoyable dig. 

William picks up a plane near the edge of the table. “This is a P-51 Mustang. Mommy and Daddy saw one in the ocean once.” He happily zooms the plane around his mother’s head.

“Really, Dana?”

Scully shrugs, laughing, then pulls her son onto her lap.

“Drop Dead Red!” he crows, and lands the plane in her hair.

**II.**

William removes all of the ingredients from the pantry, arranging them in order on the kitchen table. He puts his stepstool back in the broom closet, then takes a seat across from his mother.

“Okay,” he says. “So we’re doubling this, right?”

“Right,” Scully says, passing him a sheet of paper. “Dad wants to bring the extras into the office.”

“So they just have to be good enough for government work, right?” William loves this joke of his father’s even though he doesn’t fully understand it.

Scully throws a wadded up paper towel at him. “Don’t let me catch you saying that around Assistant Director Skinner.”

William grins. “Okay, okay. So…let’s see. If I need, uh, three and a half cups of flour that's…hmmm…” he taps the pencil against his lip. “Seven!” he exclaims, changing the number on the printed recipe.

“Nice work.”

“So this says half a cup of brown sugar which is…two doubled is four but…”

Scully smiles, waiting, watching her son gnaw the eraser as he contemplates.

“Oh, it’s one cup because you multiply the TOP by two! Not the bottom!” William scribbles furiously, changing the rest of the quantities. He passes the paper back to his mother. “Can you just check it first?”

She nods, scanning his math. “Perfect. Though your handwriting could use a little work, my goodness.”

He throws the paper towel wad back at her. “I can’t be good at _everything_ , sheesh.”

“Okay, Iron Chef. Let’s get going on this, hmmm? I’ve got some work to do this afternoon.”

William puts on his Tardis apron. “Cool work or paperwork?”

“ _I_ think it’s cool. It deals with in situ phosphorylation of the alph-”

“Nevermind.”

Scully snatches the chocolate chips from his side of the table. “You little jerk,” she laughs.

“Hey, give those back!”

She jumps up from her seat and sprints upstairs. “Catch me first,” she calls down.

“SCUUULLLLAAAAAAAYYYYY!” William shouts, tearing after her.

**III.**

“This is bullshit!” he exclaims, scuffing the dirt with the toe of his sneaker.

“William!”

He looks her in the eye, scowling. “It is, Mom. Come on.”

Scully sighs. “It’s bullshit. Do you want to handle it or do you want us to give a call?”

William sighs, rubbing his face. His nails are bitten down, his hair tumbled and brushing the collar of his school polo. “I don’t know, can I think about it?”

Scully nods, glancing at Mulder. His jaw is clenched, eyes unreadable behind his Ray-Bans.

“I don’t cheat,” William says. “I’d rather fail than cheat.”

“I know,” Mulder says. “We’ll work it out.”

“I haaaaaate group work!” William shouts. “Those _dumbasses_!” He kicks a tree several times in frustration.

“Daddy’s little team player,” Scully remarks to Mulder, bumping his arm with her shoulder.

“Oh, you’re going to blame _me_ for Lieutenant Loner? You, Queen of the Dead? Besides, those kids _are_ dumbasses. Did they really think the teacher wouldn’t figure out they’d plagiarized the damned thing?”

She watches William shred his project grading sheet into dozens of tiny pieces.

“William,” she calls. “That’s enough.”

“No, I’m still pissed.” He hurls the pieces of paper into the breeze.

“ _William._ You are making a spectacle. Come on, we’ll talk about this more at home.”

William, still scowling, slouches past them to her SUV. He hurls his backpack in, then climbs in after to glower.

“How about we go out for dinner,” Mulder suggests as he and Scully get in. “What do you want, William?”

“Revenge,” he replies. “Served cold. And unexpectedly.”

“Fair,” Scully concedes in a mild tone. “But we were thinking more like ribs or something.”

“Ooohh, ribs sound good,” Mulder says, backing out. “And cornbread.”

“Coleslaw.”

William groans. “I’m in anguish back here and you’re thinking about your stomachs.”

“Peach pie,” Scully adds. “William, the best ribs I ever had were –”

“Clay’s Barbecue in Delta Glen Wisconsin,” William sighs. “I know. Run by this guy named Clay Jenkins. And it’s weird because you wouldn’t expect great ribs in Wisconsin, ha ha. Why was I born to suffer?”

Mulder turns onto the highway. “It builds character. Look at your mother and me. So much character.”

Silence for a time.

“I hope those jerks get abducted and anally probed,” William mutters at length. “Can we get ice cream too?”

**IV.**

“This is so cool,” William breathes, gripping the steering wheel.

Scully smiles, promising herself she will be calm even as she half-wishes he were still in a car seat.

“You wanna say the rosary first?” Mulder pipes up from the back seat. “To Our Blessed Lady of Brake Pads?”

“Daaaaaad,” William says. “I am a licensed driver now. I am a master of my craft.”

“You should try being master of your domain,” Mulder mutters. “Long goddamn showers.”

“Huh?”

Scully chokes back a laugh. “Nothing, ignore him. Okay, William. Go ahead.”

He stares at the backup camera with the intensity of an air traffic controller, inching slowly down the driveway. Confidence building, he presses his foot harder on the gas and the car jerks out of the driveway and into the court.

William slams on the brakes. “Shit! Shoot! I’m sorry!”

Scully squeezes his shoulder. “It’s okay.”

“You’re fine,” Mulder says. “Just take it easy. Fight your mother’s lead foot, son. You aren’t bound by her destiny.”

William nods, chewing his lip.

Scully turns around. “At least I put gas in the damn thing.”

He rolls his eyes. “One Sno-Cat. One time. Woman, will you let me live?”

“You act like we ran out of gas along the highway, Mulder. It was Antarctica and I was very damp.”

He slouches back into his seat. “Whatever.”

William shifts the car into drive, tentatively pressing the gas pedal and driving to the end of their street. He puts the blinker on, rolling forward to peer across the quiet road. “Okay,” he says. “Here goes.”

“Our first case!” Scully snaps.

“Jesus!” William says, slamming on the brakes. “Mom, I’m a little stressed, okay?”

“First case what?” Mulder leans forward, resting his chin on the back of her seat.

“The car died. In Oregon. William, you can turn now.”

“Okay, but-”

“Do not even start with me, Scully. You know that wasn’t car trouble. Besides, I never parked a damn car on _train tracks_ and let it get _hit.”_

She throws her hands up, aggravated. “Like you had a better plan?”

“STOP!” William shouts. “You guys need to stop or I swear to god I’m turning this car around.”

“Sorry,” Scully says.

“Sorry,” from the backseat.

William, jaw set, makes a smooth right turn and stares ahead.

Scully beams at him, rubbing her hands together with excitement. How quickly these moments pass, she thinks, how quickly they grow up.

A yellow light causes William to carefully slow down, coming to a stop right at the white line. He looks satisfied.

“Eleven speeding tickets,” Mulder notes.

William leaves them both on the sidewalk and drives himself to Target.

**V.**

He is 6'3 and 180 pounds, his sinewy frame having filled out just enough to keep him from looking like an oddity. William has a grasp on how much space he takes up now. He no longer stumbles over his size 13 feet or crashes into end tables and bookshelves. Sometimes he lifts his mother up when he hugs her, just because he can.

At 4:30 he shuffles downstairs in his tuxedo, notched lapel with a black bowtie and white pocket square. He went for opera slippers because Sylvia thought they looked cooler than the wing tips. Scully was just happy he agreed to take off his damned Chucks for the occasion.

“Well,” she says. “My goodness, William.” Her throat is unexpectedly tight. Her boy has towered over her for years now, but in this James Bond getup he is suddenly, shockingly, a man.

“Cleans up okay, doesn’t he?” Mulder says, grinning. “Mulder men can wear the he hell out of a tux.”

“I’m a Scully,” William points out. “Technically.” He goes to the fridge to extract Sylvia’s corsage and a gallon of milk.

“Got your mother’s eyes, cheekbones, and pedantic nature.”

“When’s the limo getting here?” Scully asks, watching her son chug milk from the container. He’s the only one who drinks it and she has long since ceased picking the battle with him.

“Half an hour. Sylvia’s almost here with her parents and Alex and Lucy are on their way too. Are you going to be able to get enough pictures in that time, Scully-sama?” He pouts his lips, batting long black lashes.

“If Hopkins doesn’t work out, you can always fall back on your Blue Steel there, Zoolander,” Mulder observes.

“Don’t get milk on your tux,” Scully warns, leaving the kitchen when she hears the doorbell.  She welcomes William’s girlfriend and her parents to the house, admiring Sylvia’s pale blue dress against the deep brown of her skin. The air is sweet with the gardenias pinned to her curls.

Scully watches her son and this lovely young woman in the kitchen, watches how he makes her laugh with his father’s aw-shucks grin and consciously bad jokes. She hopes they’ll last through college but doubts it because who the hell knows what they’re doing at this age? William still forgets to lock his car for heaven’s sake.

“Dana,” she hears, and it’s Sylvia’s father. “The other kids are here.”

Pictures outside under the cherry tree, heavy with blossoms. Sylvia’s killer smile and her son’s serious eyes. William and Alex pinning corsages on their dates, the girls blushing and giggly. Pictures in front of the limo, an illegal champagne toast.

“Bye Dad,” William says, clapping his father’s shoulder. “Bye Scully-sama.” He kisses her cheek, then gives Sylvia his arm as they all pile into the back seat.

Scully watches as the car drives away.

“We were that young once,” Mulder says, slipping his arms around her. He rests his chin on her head. “Well, you and Marcus were. I didn’t have the pleasure of your taffeta heyday.”

He laughs when she swats him.

“Prom,” Scully says. “Then graduation. Then college, my god, Mulder. We ship him up to Hopkins in just a few months!” There’s so much he doesn’t know yet, so much trouble she wants to spare him. How could she be expected to give him a lifetime of wisdom in eighteen short years?

“Quit worrying,” Mulder says. “He knows how to order pizza and change a tire. And hey, he’s your son so he’ll be _fine_.”

“Ha ha.”

“We raised a good man,” Mulder says softly.

Scully nods. “We really did.”

Mulder turns her to face him, tips her chin up so she can look him in the eye. “Come on inside, Scully. I’ve spiked the punch and the 80’s are on Spotify.”

She squints, smiling at him. “You think you’re pretty cute don’t you, Fox Mulder?”

“I do, yes.” He brushes her hair off her face.

“Me too. Let’s go make out.”

Hand in hand they walk back to the house, the yard dappled with puddles of May sunshine.

**VI.**

Scully, achy and tired, her breasts heavy, lays William on the changing table. She has a washcloth in her hand, having already learned to keep his tiny penis covered when putting him in a fresh diaper.

He begins to cry when she unsnaps his onesie, but Scully strokes his cheek with her forefinger, shushes him softly.

“It’s okay, William,” she says. “Your Daddy’s coming over.”


End file.
